author Robert Hamera     Slice of Life

I find this unacceptable.  “You will love it there,” I was told.  “They will pamper you,” they said.  “You will not need to lift a finger,”  they promised.

Lies!  Nothing but lies.  How could they do this to me.  I want to be pampered. I deserve it.  I was born for the pampered life.  Instead what do I get?  A life of work.  Serving others.  Doing things they could do for themselves but don’t.

Am I complaining?  Yes.  Am I looking for pity?  You bet I am.  I know you will feel sorry for me once you hear my story.  Get out the tissues.  Here goes.

It begins in the morning.  I am supposed to be an alarm clock.  If I didn’t act as one they would sleep way beyond 6:30, my first feeding time.  Totally unacceptable.


Once I get them up I check on breakfast making sure the table is set and all is in order.


Do I get to eat any of that?  Nooooo.  This is what I get and they even expect me to open the can and serve myself.


To add insult to injury when they are finished eating they expect me to do the dishes and clean up after them.



When the mail comes who do you think is responsible for opening it and sorting things out.  If you guessed them you would be so wrong.


Someone has to keep the house clean.  Do you think it’s them?  Ha.

Can you imagine. They expect me to clean the bathroom sink!


It is up to me to make sure the drawers in the kitchen are also clean.


Who do you think takes care of folding the laundry and putting it away?


Whenever one or both of them decides to take a trip it falls to me to pack their suitcases.


Holidays are even worse.  Someone has to wrap all of those presents at Christmas.  It sure isn’t them.


Did I mention that one of them blogs every Tuesday and every day during the month of March?  Who do you think writes the blog when he can’t think of anything (and this happens quite frequently).


When it is raining it is my job to get them an umbrella so that they don’t get wet.  Poor things.  Do they think they would melt if they got rained on?


They even have me being a hair stylist to the others who live here.  I call this the style “The Donald”.  I must admit that Molly does look presidential.


It’s no wonder that by the end of the day I am totally exhausted.



So, you can see I lead a tough life, not the one I was born to.  I hope that you were able to read this through all of the tears I know you must be shedding.